Blackbird Fly
by Shira Lansys
Summary: Her fingers tremble as the quill scratches dutifully at the paper. This is her only chance for freedom, but it could cost her her life... and so much more. Warnings are inside; please heed them.


**A/N: This is a repost of story I originally wrote for a Grimmification Challenge. If you are a great fan of Krum, you may want to hit the back button. It's not character bashing, but I took certain liberties with his character that fans may not appreciate. **

**Warning: Violence, wife-beating, brief semi-graphic descriptions of violence during sex.**

**Beta: ChronicxxInsanity**

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><p><strong>Blackbird Fly<strong>

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night,  
>Take these broken wings and learn to fly,<br>All your life  
>You were only waiting for this moment to arrive<em>

Blackbird - The Beatles

Hermione's fingers trembled as she grasped the quill. The parchment loomed in her vision, crisp, blank and threatening on her writing desk. Beads of perspiration trickled down her forehead and she wiped them away, impatient with her dithering but unable to help it.

Her life - her freedom - rested on this letter. And not just her freedom; Emma, her baby daughter, was relying on it too. How could she fail when she knew that, if she did, in a few years she'd have to gaze into her darlings bruised and tearful eyes and tell her that Daddy had done this because Mummy wasn't strong enough or clever enough to get help or to find freedom?

She only hoped that Harry would figure it out. He was clever, after all - one didn't become the head Auror for no reason. He'd figure it out, as long as she didn't make it too subtle. She couldn't make it too obvious, either, otherwise she'd be caught out and punished for her mistake. She'd pay heavily, with broken bones and black eyes - perhaps even with her life.

But she wouldn't be found out. She wasn't the brightest witch of her age for no reason.

She had to concentrate and she had to remain calm. With great effort she steadied her shaking fingers and began to write.

_Dear Harry,_

_How are you? It's been a while since we got in touch; we have sort of drifted apart over the last few years. I apologise for allowing that to happen. I hope this letter can rectify some of that. _

_So much has happened in the past few years. Victor and I got married - sorry you weren't invited; it was a very private affair - and I have a lovely baby girl named Emma. I hear you also have a daughter and two sons? I know she is called Lily, but you will have to write back and tell me what you named the other two._

_I understand you married Ginny? I hope you and her are both well. It would be nice to hear from and know that you that you are happy together._

_I attached a copy of a muggle fairy tale for you to read to Lily. I hope she enjoys it._

_**How does this tale begin? At the beginning, when Little Red set out with a basket of muffins for her dearly loved **__**grandmother? Right at the end, when everyone's happy? Really, it begins with a wolf. Yes, you heard right - a wolf. **_

_**Perhaps it's a little scary, but he wasn't really a **_**mean**_** wolf - just a little hungry. Little Red didn't know that, otherwise perhaps she would have offered the wolf some muffins. Eating some muffins would have solved his problem, rather than thinking he had to eat that dear old woman he came across. Anyway, I shall continue with the story. Stories are best told from beginning to end, so that is how I will tell it. Endings are best told last, I find. **_

_**Hood and cloak of the finest red velvet, the townspeople knew Lily by her nickname - Li**__**ttle Red Riding Hood. Even her mother and grandmother - the two people closest to her in the world - called her that by the time she was twelve. "Little Red," they'd call her for short. "Pretty, sweet, lovely Little Red." **_

_**Underneath the hood she had hair as black as coal and eyes like the prettiest emerald. She loved to play with the animals - abundant in the forest where she lived - take walks, and she frequently took pleasure in walking through the woods to her Grandmother's cottage, usually taking along a basket of muffins her mother had baked. **_

_**Virtuous and as lovely a **__**granddaughter as any grandmother could hope to expect, Little Red was warmly welcomed at the homely cottage. It was this such place that Little Red was heading on that fateful day she met the wolf. Carried on her arm was a wicker basket full of the most delicious muffins, and she hummed a beautiful tune as she skipped along the path. Taking her time, she stopped to pick some flowers. Oh, what beautiful flowers they were! Red knew that Grandmother would love them. **_

_**Here it was that Little Red met the wolf for the first time. Arriving just as she finished collecting her daffodils and buttercups, the wolf smiled in what he thought was a friendly way at the little girl he towered over. Seeing the wolf, Little Red gasped, and leapt back. **_

_**Everything Little Red's mother had told her about wolves flashed through her head, but she was a polite girl, and was careful to mind her manners despite her fear. "May I help you?" she asked politely. Maybe the wolf wasn't a bad wolf, as the stories would have her believe. After all, there was only so much truth in a story. **_

"_**Afternoon," the wolf greeted her, despite the fact it was morning. "Nice day for a stroll. Delicious day, one might say."**_

"_**Is it?" Red asked, truly terrified at the wolf's implications.**_

"_**Couldn't be better!" the wolf exclaimed. "And how are you, my lovely, little… tasty, girl? Tasty, did I say tasty? I meant pretty. Very pretty indeed. Extra pretty, in fact."**_

_**After the wolf had finished talking, Little Red began to back away. "No offense, Mr Wolf," she said cautiously, "but I mustn't talk to strangers. Do have a lovely day."**_

_**Wheeling around hastily, she turned and fled, catching the wolf by surprise. Energetic and quick as Little Red was, he didn't have time to catch her before she had disappeared from sight. **_

_**Catching up to her was not as easy as the wolf would have thought. Almost impossible, in fact. Nearly losing her many a time, he finally caught sight of her once more when she'd lowered her guard and slowed down to a walk. Now the wolf knew Little Red was not silly, and was more cautious. Offhandedly, he approached her once more. Turning a charming smile on her, he said, "Fancy seeing you here.**_

"_**Everything alright with you?" Seeing her preparing to run again, despite his more friendly and jovial tone, he quickly changed the subject. Careful to not seem too nosy, he tried again. After all, he was hungry, and her basket of muffins did smell delicious. "Please don't run," he begged. "Everyone always runs, and I just want to talk to someone." **_

_**Hoping that she wasn't about to get eaten, Little Red stayed where she was, although the distance between her and the wolf reassured her slightly. "Everyone?" she asked.**_

"_**How can you blame them?" the wolf said. "Unfortunately, they see me and think that I want to eat them. Really, I don't. Talking, conversing - that's better than food. So where are you off to in such a hurry?"**_

"_**Hurry?" Little Red asked. "Embarking on a stroll is not hurrying. Really, I'm just going to visit my grandmother.**_

"_**Ah," the wolf said knowingly, "I see. Now that sounds like a lovely idea. Do you plan to give her those cakes?"**_

"_**Most certainly," Little Red replied. "Every one of them was made with love for her."**_

"_**How lovely," the wolf said, wishing he could try **__**one. Even though he was a wolf, he still had manners and decided not to ask. "Say hello to your grandma for me; I really must be going."**_

_**Scratching her head, Little Red was left puzzled at the eccentric and unusual behaviour of the wolf. Not that she'd met another wolf to judge him **__**against, but… weren't wolves supposed to eat you and be on their way? Apart from the going "on his way", the wolf hadn't done that at all. Pleased that she was still alive, Little Red skipped on, looking forward to sharing the tale of her unusual experience with her grandmother. Perhaps he was just a very confused wolf? Eccentric didn't even cover it, really. Dotty was closer to the word she was looking for.**_

_**Merrily the wolf made his way through the forest, glad that he'd had a decent conversation with someone for once, although he wished he'd had a chance to taste those muffins. **__**But you can't really do anything, he thought sadly to himself, when they're made with love for someone else.**_

_**When he'd been walking for quite a distance, the wolf saw a quaint little cottage in a clearing. And, being the social wolf he was, he thought he really should pay a visit to whoever lived there - it was the polite, neighbourly thing to do. Not realising that not everyone enjoyed surprise visits from wolves, he jovially went up and knocked on the door. Deciding that it was a woodcutter**__**, or perhaps someone picking berries to make a berry pie, who was humming that merry tune that rang melodiously through the woods, he thought he might hum along.**_

_**Slowly, the door opened, and a frail little old lady popped her head out and saw the wolf. **__**Opening her mouth wide in horror at the sight of him (who looked very threatening when he was humming) she screamed before she could think twice.**_

_**In this story so far, the wolf has not proven to be very bright (although he is as lovely in personality as any wolf you might hope to meet).**_

_**Caution, however, was not one of his talents, and he'd learnt in previous situations where he'd lacked caution that, with wolves, people tended to attack first and ask questions later. Aware that there was a woodcutter not too far away, and that the woodcutter would have a sharp axe capable of cutting off a wolf's head in one swing, the wolf formulated a plan. Not a very good plan, and a rather rushed one, but a plan all the same. This is where he makes his first mistake. **_

_**As the woodcutter's whistling stopped, the wolf leapt forwards and clasped his hairy paw over the frail old woman's mouth. Preventing her from making further noise, though, would not help him all that much when the woodcutter had already heard a scream. "Penelope?" the woodcutter called, and the wolf guessed that must be her name. "Are you alright." Realising he had to do something quick, the wolf hastily assumed an old lady's voice. "Alright?" he called back, "I've never been better! That was just me practicing my throat-warbling! Everything's fine here!"**_

_**After a few tentative seconds, the whistling resumed and the wolf breathed a sigh of relief. Without hesitation, the wolf pushed the woman - who, while struggling, was so weak he barely noticed - back into her cabin, leaving his paw on her mouth to silence her. After all, if he let go she'd probably just scream again. You never know with old ladies. **_

_**At that moment, Little Red was approaching her Grandmother's home which - you guessed it - was the woman the wolf had just physically assaulted. Not realising the wolf had beaten her there, or what was going on inside the cabin, Little Red knocked on the door. "Dear Grandmother," she called, "it's me; may I come in?"**_

_**Masking his surprise at the sound of not just a visitor but the very same girl he'd met in the woods this morning, he called out, "In a minute," in Penelope's voice. Only too aware of how incriminating this would seem to anyone walking in, he quickly gagged the old woman and tied her up with a pair of stockings. Noticing an empty closet, he pushed her inside. In a flash, he pulled some clothes and nightcap out of the wardrobe and changed into them before leaping under the covers. Time was on his side; he only just managed this before Little Red poked her head through the door. "Oh, there you are, Grandma," she said, "is everything alright?" Red made her way through the door and placed the muffins on the table, before taking a seat there. Sniffing the air, the wolf felt his mouth water at the aroma of the muffins. **_

"_**Everything is fine," the wolf said. "Very fine, although I do have some sort of cold. Explains why my voice is scratchy." Red nodded - she had noticed the strangeness to her **__**grandmother's voice. "Your muffins smell lovely," the wolf commented. **_

"_**Thank you," Little Red said. "How- Grandma! I didn't notice, but you have very large ears today!" Noticing for the first time the wolf's differences, Little Red peered more attentively at her grandmother. "Gosh, your hands are large too!"**_

"_**I have big ears to hear you with, my dear," the wolf answered smoothly, "and my hands are large because I do a lot of knitting." **_

_**Desperate to not be recognised, the wolf shrunk down underneath the covers, but Little Red had already noticed something else. "Oh, your eyes are big too!" she cried. **_

"_**I can see you better with big eyes," the wolf said. **_

"_**And what big teeth you have!" Little Red exclaimed. "My goodness!"**_

"_**All the better to-" the wolf began to say, but before he could finish his sentence, Little Red Riding Hood screamed. Fearful, now that she recognised the wolf, she backed away, and began crying "Wolf! Wolf!" Realising he was caught out, the wolf tried to leap out of bed, but got tangled up in the sheets instead. "Argh!" cried Little Red, misinterpreting the wolf's actions. "I'm being attacked by a wolf! Do something, someone!"**_

_**Hearing screams for a second time that day, and realising that this did not sound like throat warbling, the woodcutter raced to the little cottage. Expecting trouble, he saw what appeared to be a large, cross-dressing wolf advancing on a little girl, and swung his axe down immediately. **_

_**Without going into much detail, I can safely assure you that the wolf died. I was told that Little Red went into shock, and the woodcutter spent five minutes searching for Grandma. Lies, truth, rumours; who knows. Less than half an hour later, however, they were all sitting around the kitchen table, the wolf's remains disposed of.**_

_**The muffins, so I hear, were wonderful. After all, they were made with love. Ketchup was also in the recipe, although you'd think this would hinder rather than help the taste. Everything seemed perfect.**_

'_**Seemed' being the key word there. After all that, the wolf didn't really get his happy ending. Very far from it, in fact. Everything sort of went wrong for him. **_

_**Unless you were the wolf, however you got a happy ending. So that's a pretty good sort of ending then, isn't it?**_

_I hope I got the details right - it's been a while since my parents told me it. Please write back - I would love to get in touch again._

_From,_

_Hermione._

Hermione finished the letter and folded it carefully. She hoped Victor wasn't asleep; suddenly she wanted to be rid of the evidence of her betrayal. It made her feel like she was about to throw up, knowing that Victor would soon be reading over her letter. But there was no other thing to do; she rose from the table and made her way into the other room where Victor sat, reading a book.

"Honey?" she said, careful to keep her eyes averted to the floor. This couldn't go wrong; nothing could go wrong. It was her one hope. "I've written the letter you said I could send to Harry."

She held her breath, praying he was in a good mood. There was silence for a moment - she daren't look at his face - and then he grunted. "All right," he said. "Vell, pass it here."

She tried not to let her hand tremble as she gave it to him - he liked her submissive, but he hated it when she showed weakness. He took the letter with deceptive gentleness, and Hermione half expected him to tear it up before even opening it. Instead he carefully smoothed out the parchment, before reading it with a terrifying intenseness.

Standing awkwardly for fear of sitting, Hermione tried not to look too nervous. It was just a letter, after all. Well, that's what it was supposed to be. And if that was what it was, then she wouldn't be hanging around looking like her life depended on being allowed to send it.

"Is it alright if I check on Emma?" Hermione asked. Krum nodded, not really paying attention.

She fled the room as slowly as she could manage, hastily hurrying up the stairs to her daughter's bedroom. It had only been twenty minutes ago that she'd left the well-behaved angel there, but she always felt a strong sense of relief when she came back to see that Emma was still alright - even if she'd just gone into the next room to get something.

And, sure enough, she was happily playing with her dolls on the floor. She looked up when she heard the noise of Hermione coming, and a wide, beaming smile split her face. "Mummy!" she exclaimed, opening her arms for a hug.

Hermione rushed to her daughter and picked her up gladly, cradling her and burying her head in that small shoulder. She wanted to whisper, "We'll be safe soon," or, "Mummy's got us help," to her, but she didn't dare risk it.

Soon Emma was wriggling against her embrace and Hermione reluctantly placed her back on the ground so she could continue playing. Then she returned downstairs; she didn't want to draw Victor's attention to Emma. The child did her best to stay out of the way, but if he figured it out then he would be angry… and Hermione would protect Emma at all costs. That was what this was about, after all.

When she reached the living room, she saw the Victor had already finished the letter. She wanted to draw his attention to it, but was afraid of what the consequence would be. However, he raised his head and saw her in the doorway, and beckoned for her to come over.

She did so obediently. His hand rose to her face and she thought he was going to slap her. Instead the touch was gentle, his palm resting on her warm cheek. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she wished that it was like this all the time; like it had been in the beginning when his caresses were loving and tender.

Then his hand withdrew and came back to her cheek again with such speed and force that it made a sound like a whip. The loud noise broke Hermione's illusion, and she felt a sharp pain in her neck as her head swung around quickly with the force of the blow.

"You can post it," he breathed, leaning closer to her so that his rough whisper, once like sweet honey to her ears, could be easily heard. She smelt the alcohol on his breath but didn't dare wrinkle her nose in disgust. "But you vill be in my debt. I vill expect to see your gratitude tonight."

A hand found its way to her thigh and began creeping its slow journey up towards her body. She remembered when that touch had excited her and pleased her; now it just made her shudder. "Please," she whispered petrified. "Emma's still up…."

The hand disappeared at once, and Victor turned his back on her. "Very vell," he said. "Go."

Hermione fled.

Help was coming.

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><p>She shuddered as hand worked its way over her body. She was disgusted by its touch, but she was also disgusted in herself. In a way, she was glad that Victor was doing this. Later, when he got more violent, she would look back and wish it was just this caressing she was enduring. When he began to hit her, to humiliate her… when he began to strangle her, then she would hate the feel of his hands. For now, she only wished they weren't on her body.<p>

She closed her eyes and let herself move with her husband, doing what he asked and acting like he wanted.

All that sustained her was the thought that Harry would be there soon. And then everything would be okay.

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><p>Harry frowned as he read over the strange letter he'd received. He sat at his study under the light of candles, reading over and over Hermione's message. Why was she contacting him after all this time? For over two years, ever since she married Krum, the only contact she'd had with any people from school had been to tell them not to bother her. And now he sent her this.<p>

This being a letter that pretended nothing had happened, and enclosed a fairytale. An odd fairytale, at that; Harry was pretty sure that the one Dudley had been read had been different.

It was very odd, and he couldn't miss the feeling that he was missing something.

For many more hours he read over her letter, almost managing to memorise some of the lines. He returned again and again to the tale of Little Red Riding Hood. It was an odd feeling but he thought that it was important.

More time passed, and he found himself gazing idly at the writing instead of reading what it was saying. Hermione hadn't written like that when they'd been at school; she'd written neatly, but only just; writing ten-foot essays instead of six-inch ones had been more important than making it look tidy. But it was more cursive now; especially her upper-case letters. The "H" in "How". The "A" in "At". The "R" in "Right". The next "R", in "Really". The "Y" in "Yes"-

Harry blinked and looked at the first paragraph again. He could have sworn that he'd just read his name, made up in the letters that began the sentences. He double checked and, to his surprise, found he'd been right.

Surely it was a coincidence?

He read on to the next paragraph.

_Perhaps it's a little scary, but he wasn't really a mean wolf - just a little hungry. Little Red didn't know that, otherwise perhaps she would have offered the wolf some muffins. Eating some muffins would have solved his problem, rather than thinking he had to eat that dear old woman he came across. Anyway, I shall continue with the story. Stories are best told from beginning to end, so that is how I will tell it. Endings are best told last, I find. _

With a sinking heart, he read the letters that began the sentences. P. L. E. A. S. E.

Frantically, he scrambled for quill and parchment, cursing himself for not keeping his desk tidier. Within seconds he was jotting down all the beginnings of sentences, putting spaces in wherever Hermione had started a new paragraph. .

When he'd finished he felt sick.

_h__arry please help us victor has emma and i captive and we cannot escape he hurts her and me he's snapped my wand so i can't apparate away and monitors everything i do i am afraid he will take my life save us._

Not wanting to believe what he was reading, he put punctuation and capital letters in. The final message read: _Harry, please help us. Victor has Emma and I captive and we cannot escape. He hurts her and me. He's snapped my wand so I can't apparate away, and monitors everything I do. I am afraid he will take my life. Save us._

For a moment, Harry could do nothing but sit there in shock. His heart pounded too fast and everything suddenly seemed surreal. Then he was out of his chair and sprinting down the stairs. He yelled to Ginny, not caring that it was night and their children were asleep. She sensed the urgency in his voice, because she did not scold him as she emerged from the living room.

"I have to get a team of Aurors," he told her. "Fire-call Ron. He's going to want to be present for this one."

And then he was out the door, barely feeling the chill before apparating to the ministry.

_Hold on, Hermione, _he thought. _I'm coming. _

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><p>She cried out as he entered her harshly, thrusting in without caring for what she felt. His fist connected with her face when she whimpered in pain and she heard, rather than felt, the crunch of bones as her nose broke. She cried out and, in punishment, he bent her arm back behind her.<p>

She knew better than to make noise, but even after all this time she couldn't help the pain escaping from her mouth. They only grew louder as her arm was pulled even further and she knew what would happen soon.

Sure enough, his arm found its way up to her neck. It was only a small amount of pressure on her windpipe - a warning - but it was enough. She became silent.

The hand didn't loosen, though, and tears began to trickle out of the corners of her eyes.

Everything happened at once after that. She hadn't even heard them come up the stairs, the Aurors. But suddenly there were flashes of light, and Victor wasn't near her anymore. Instead she was in a room full of people averting their eyes from her naked body. To her embarrassment, most of them were males - a few females, but mostly males.

They were just a blur of faces until someone offered her a blanket to wrap around her and shield her body from sight. At that point, she found herself looking up into the familiar face of a freckled red-head.

Then, she wasn't sure how it happened, but she was in his arms, sobbing into his shoulder. He was no longer the awkward boy he'd once been; instead of patting her back and looking like he wished he was anywhere else but there, he embraces her, murmuring comforting things into her hair. She didn't let go of him until one of the Aurors brought in a still-sleeping Emma.

Everything would be alright now. She was saved.


End file.
